Here for You
by Dana Katherine
Summary: When Hawkeye’s sick, who takes care of him? Like you couldn’t guess….HM. My first M*A*S*H fic.
1. Chapter 1

They had been in surgery for 34 hours straight

Title: Here for You

Author: Dana Katherine

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will, not making any money, blah blah blah….

Summary: When Hawkeye's sick, who takes care of him? Like you couldn't guess….HM. My first MASH fic.

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They had been in surgery for 34 hours straight. All the personnel were starting to feel the drain, but one doctor in particular was showing it the worst. His eyes were red and glazed, he seemed to be perspiring more than anyone else, and he seemed distant and slightly incoherent.

"Captain? Dr. Pierce!" came from Klinger.

He was startled. "What?"

"Your patient has been gone for 5 minutes, you can go now," came the reply.

"Oh, alright." He stumbled out of the operating room to the change room. His head was throbbing, his muscles were achy and he thought at any minute his stomach may jump out of his mouth. He found Colonel Potter sitting on the bench with his eyes closed.

Without opening them he said, "I sure hope you're going to bed, Pierce. You look like you could keel over at any moment."

"How do you know? Your eyes aren't even open," came the weak reply as Hawkeye stripped off his scrubs.

"Well, you've looked like it all day, so you can't look much better now."

Hawkeye tried to laugh, but it just made his head swim. "Well, that is where I'm headed Colonel."

"Good."

The younger man left the tent and ran directly into Margaret.

"Sorry, Margaret," he managed and started off towards the swamp.

"Hawkeye, wait. You haven't eaten in forever. Come to the mess tent and eat something with the rest of us."

The thought of food, especially from the mess tent, made his stomach lurch. He shook his head, "No, thank-you. I need a nap first. See ya later." He started off for the swamp only to come to the conclusion that he was about to see, again, what little food he had managed in the last however many hours. So instead of entering he detoured and walked around to the back.

Margaret had been watching him, and seeing him walk around back worried her. She ran after him, and found him on his hands and knees heaving onto the hard ground. She knelt down beside him and placed one hand on his forehead, which revealed his high fever, and used the other one to rub his back. When he was done, he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth. "I'm sorry," came a whisper.

"Hawkeye, you have no reason to be sorry. I'm sorry you're so sick."

He shook his head, "You don't have to feel sorry for me." He tried to stand, but his legs were too shaky. He started to fall, but she reacted fast enough to prevent it and helped him to his feet. His head swam again, and he really just wanted to lie down. He suddenly realized he was half-way to the tent, but not his. "Where are you taking me, Margaret?" he slurred.

"To my tent, for isolation. We can't have you infecting Winchester and Hunnicutt. One surgeon down is enough, let alone most of them as you surely well remember." They arrived at the tent, and she opened the door as he staggered in. She caught his shoulders and helped him sit on the bed. He dropped his head to his hands and groaned. "I'm going to get you a glass of water and some aspirin for your fever. Don't go anywhere." With that she left.

He really couldn't have left, even if he wanted to. He gingerly looked around at her tent. It was much more colorful and cheerful than the swamp. But then again, that's probably how it received its nickname. This was all her, and he loved being in here. Usually his presence here upset Margaret, but not recently. Ever since that night behind enemy lines it seemed her walls had started to crumble, and she, if it was at all possible, even seemed to enjoy his presence at times. He knew he sure enjoyed hers. Suddenly the world was spinning, and he flopped over on the bed.

She returned to the tent to find him sleeping. She hated to wake him, but she needed to get his fever down. And at any rate, his sleeping face down in the pillow worried her a bit, anyways. She sat the items down and shook him gently. At first he did not stir and a brief panic washed over her. She shook him again, harder, and he finally managed to groggily raise his head. She helped him back up to a sitting position.

"Here. Take these, and then I'll let you sleep." He swallowed the pills and gave back the glass. She helped him out of his fatigues until he was in just his shirt and shorts. He was too sick to protest, or be embarrassed. She laid him down and covered him up, and then stood for a moment, running her fingers through his hair, willing his pain away. He wanted to make a comment, joke like his usual self, but he was too sick, too tired. He simply just allowed sleep to pull him into its blackness.

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A/N: Ok, so there's the first chapter. I have more, but I wanted to get a feel of what people thought of the idea first. Yeah, I know it's been done before, but I jumped on the bandwagon late so bear with me. Love it? Hate it? Please let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

See first chapter for information!

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Margaret was waiting in Potter's office, quite impatiently. She knew Hawkeye had a bad case of the flu and she didn't want it to spread like the last time. She also wanted to get back to check on him because he seemed to be getting worse, and it scared her. It also scared her that she cared so much. Sure, when Donald had been in the hospital she had worried, but not like this. In fact, now that she looked back on it, her worry may have been out of duty. She was with him, so she had to be worried. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Colonel.

"You wanted to see me, Major?" The older man asked.

"Yes, Sir. Dr. Pierce has come down with the flu. A pretty severe case at that."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. High fever, dizziness, vomiting."

"That's a good diagnosis, Major. Where is he now?"

"In my tent," she replied. And then, off his look, "I wanted him isolated, and I knew that General from Tokyo would be here any day to use the V.I.P. tent. The last time the flu went around it got all of our surgeons. Pierce was operating with the flu because he was the last one to come down with it."

"Yeah. I heard about that. Alright, we'll get a nurse to look after him…"

"I'll do it," she interrupted. As soon as the words left her mouth she knew it came off too eager. "I've already been exposed…" Although that was part of her reasoning, she hoped he wouldn't see the other part. But his smile let her down.

"I see. Well, good thinking Major. Take good care of our Doctor, Margaret."

"I will, Sir." She got up and left, slightly embarrassed, but glad she could take care of him.

_He looked around at the vast landscape. Nothing in any direction but sun, dirt and wind. He could feel his flesh burning under the sun as he desperately searched for some shade, and relief from the heat. Suddenly the skies opened up and a cold rain splashed around him._

He startled awake. As the cloudiness in his vision began to clear he suddenly remembered he was sick. And boy was he sick. Just as sure as he was that he was lying on the bed, he was just as sure that he was on a ship tossing and turning on rough sea waters. His vision finally cleared and he saw Margaret, sitting on the cot next to him, and she was dabbing his face with a wet washcloth. She smiled at him and helped him roll to his back. She lifted up his shirt and began bathing his chest and abdomen.

"Taking advantage of a sick man, Margaret?" he managed with a slight smirk on his face. She rolled her eyes, but laughed in spit of herself.

"No, Hawkeye. I'm trying to lower your fever before it cooks your brain." She was joking, but they both knew his fever was way too high. That's how they spent the next few minutes, her trying to cool him down, and him trying to stay conscious. After a while she put the washcloth back in the basin and sat them aside. "Ok, you have to take some more aspirin."

He struggled to sit, only to feel that familiar feeling wash over him. He dropped his head between his knees and tried to swallow it back. Thinking fast, Margaret grabbed her trashcan and shoved it under his head just in time for the rest of his stomach contents to make an appearance. He finished and she moved the trashcan away.

"I'm sorry," he said as he reached for the aspirin. She handed him the pill and helped him take a drink. She sat the glass down, and helped him lay back in bed.

"Quit apologizing, Hawkeye. You're sick, just focus on getting better." He grunted his understanding and rolled his head over and fell fast asleep. She felt his head and sighed.

"Just get better Hawkeye." She sat down in her chair and watched his restless sleep.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews. This one is a little shorter but I hope you enjoy it. I'll try to update soon!


	3. Chapter 3

See first chapter for information!

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He opened his eyes sometime later and noticed the sun was down, and had been down for a while. He cautiously lifted his head to see if Margaret was around, he really had to use the restroom. He found her across the room, asleep in the chair. She had her feet raised up on her desk, her head bent back at an acute angle. She looked exhausted though, so he decided to try it on his own. He slowly sat up and once his equilibrium adjusted he rose to his feet. So far so good. That is until he took two steps and fell against the wall. Margaret instantly jumped out of her chair and rushed to his side.

"Hawkeye, what in the world are you doing?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious? I wanted to sit by the door." She rolled her eyes. "Ok, ok. I need to use the bathroom."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked exhausted."

"You know what, doctors make the worst patients," she chastised. She helped him back to his feet and they started to the latrine. He was leaning heavily on her the whole time and when they got there she didn't want to let him go alone in case he passed out. He was very persistent, though, so she settled for standing right outside with the door cracked. When he was finished she led him back to the tent and sat him down.

"Don't lie down, yet. I need to take your temperature again," she ordered. She pulled the thermometer out of her pocket and stuck it under his tongue.

"Again?" he mumbled over the mouth full.

"Yeah, I took it before when you were sleeping." This satisfied him so that he sat still. She pulled it out after a couple of minutes, and although she didn't tell him he knew from the look on her face that it wasn't good. "Lay down, Hawkeye, I need to go talk to Colonel Potter." With that she left and he sighed. That wasn't a good sign.

"He's not responding to the aspirin, probably because he can't keep it down. His temp is up to 103.8." She was standing in Potter's tent while he pulled on his robe.

"That sure is a lot of mercury," he replied.

"I think maybe he needs something a little stronger."

"Ok, let me go take a look and we'll decide what to do." He slipped on his shoes and headed out of the tent.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you, Sir. I'm just really worried about him."

"That's alright, Major." He walked over to the scrub room to grab a mask, and then went to Hawkeye. He found the younger man sprawled out on the bed with his face scrunched up tightly. "Pierce?" The younger one groaned, but hardly moved. The older man pulled the chair up to the side of the bed. He looked in his eyes, took his pulse, listened to his lungs. "Ok, Margaret. Why don't we try some I.V. quinine? That way we can get some fluids in him as well."

"Yes, Sir." She left the tent and returned a few minutes later with the I.V. The two of them set it up, and then he left. She sat next to Hawkeye and began to bathe him with the water again. Soon, he again fell into a dreamless slumber, and she moved back to her chair and tried to get some sleep.

The next couple of days didn't show much change. His fever never rose, but never really fell either. Margaret stayed by his side the whole time, and in a miracle of miracles they had very few casualties over those few days. It was on the third night that his condition started to change. He woke up and was absolutely drenched in sweat. The doctor in his head told him that his fever had broken, and that he needed out of his wet clothes before he got a rash. He looked around and found her asleep on the other side of the tent on his cot which she had gotten from the swamp.

"Margaret?" The weakness in his voice still surprised him. She didn't stir at all, so he tried a little louder. "Margaret, you in there?"

She finally woke and saw him sitting up in bed. "Hawkeye? What's wrong?" She went to his side, and he noticed how sexy she was in her satin pajamas.

"Well, I either wet the bed, or my fever broke."

She smiled, "Well, since you're in my bed I hope it's the second one." She helped him change his clothes, and the bed sheets. He sat in the chair while she did it, and he was actually feeling as close to a human being as he had in 3 days. "Do you want to lie back down?"

He shook his head. "No I think I'm going to sit up for a while, I've been sleeping for days. You go back to bed though, I already feel bad for all you've done." He moved back over to the bed, but sat up against the wall. She walked over and joined him.

"I'll sit with you for a while, if you don't mind." He smiled and patted the spot next to him.

They talked for awhile, but only lasted 10 minutes until they fell asleep, leaning against each other.

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A/N: No, I'm not a doctor. I'm not sure if quinine would be prescribed, as it is usually a treatment for malaria (which includes high fever), but I have read cases where it was used solely to bring down fever. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyways!


	4. Chapter 4

See first chapter for information!

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"Are you ready, Hawkeye?" asked Margaret.

"Yeah, I guess." With this they left the tent. It was Hawkeye's first outing since he became sick. They were headed over to the mess tent for breakfast. Several people congratulated him on getting better on their way. "I feel like I did something important," he joked.

"You did. You didn't die."

He laughed, "Yeah, well…" They entered the tent to a round of cheers. Hawkeye smiled and waved to everyone, and then sat down with his group of friends.

"Gee Hawkeye; it sure is good to see you up." That was Radar.

"Yes. It has been very quiet without you," added Father Mulcahy.

"You know, the nurses haven't had much exercise lately with you not out chasing them," chuckled B.J.

"Ha ha, very funny." Margaret returned with his tray of food and sat it in front of him. He picked up his fork and dug in hungrily.

"Uh, Margaret? I think your patient is still sick. He's eating, and seems to be enjoying, the food," B.J. said as he watched his friend curiously.

"Oh, trust me Beej. The food is still awful; I just haven't eaten in 3 days," replied Hawkeye.

"Attention, all personnel! Incoming wounded, come fast while there's still a wide selection!" The P.A. announcement interrupted their conversation.

"Good, anymore of this stuff and I might be sick again." Hawkeye stood up and headed out.

"Wait, Hawkeye? Are you sure you're up to it? You just barely got out of bed," Margaret had moved to walk next to him.

"Yeah…I'll be fine. Thanks though."

Three hours later they were just about finished with their wounded. Hawkeye was assisting Colonel Potter remove shrapnel from a young Private's stomach.

"It sure is good to have you back at the table, Pierce."

"Thanks, Colonel. It's good to be back. Hey Margaret, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." She handed him a clamp and wiped his forehead.

"You didn't get the flu last time it went around, and you didn't get it this time even though you were in contact with me for days. What's your secret, are you a superhuman?"

She laughed. "Nope, I breathe through my ears."

He smiled, "Oh, sure. It works for you."

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A/N: Ok, it's done. I'm sorry the last chapter is so short, but I didn't want to drag it on forever. I hope you enjoyed it!


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